Cricket!
by chill13
Summary: Utopia's government meeting takes an unexpected turn when the Englishmen decide to teach King Paramount, the island's king, a new game. Things get a little out of hand. (a story from Gilbert and Sullivan's 'Utopia Limited')


Sophy, Queen of Utopia, rested a hand on one of the large tiled pillars as she stared out into the palace garden and to the palm grove beyond. _Where was he? _He was going to miss afternoon tea. And how often had she stressed to him the need for punctuality. If he was going to be an English gentleman he was going to have to learn to be on time _especially_ for tea. She glanced at the ornamental brooch on her crisp white blouse and checked the dainty watch that dangled there. Two hours. He was _two hours_ late. This kind of behavior was simply unacceptable, even if he _was_ a king.

A tiny smile touched her pink lips as another part of her spoke up and said _he's trying._ She really had no need to complain. When she had come to these tropical waters nearly six years ago she had almost given up finding a truly honest king. It seemed she had searched the whole world over and found corruption everywhere. And then she came to Utopia. It's true that when she had met him he had been little more than a savage, knowing nothing of civilized ways except a rudimentary understanding of the English language. Of course Utopia had made some amazing feats in architecture and their plumbing and sewer systems were rather impressive for a primitive civilization. But the true mark of high society is British culture and manners. The Utopians knew nothing of that. She had been appalled at the way his three young daughters were being brought up. The poor dears had lost their mother some years before and had very little feminine influence. Being brought up under such conditions they simply had no notion of how a real lady ought to behave. Lady Sophy had never been a governess before but she simply couldn't let such lovely girls go without a proper upbringing. So she offered the King her services as a teacher and a governess to the two younger princesses. She had also insisted that he send the older one to a proper English college. He had been smitten with Sophy even then. At the start she was sure it was simply because she was English and it fascinated him. Her every suggestion had been his command.

Then the young Zara had returned from England bringing the 'Flowers of Progress', as the Utopians called the six English gentlemen who had vowed to help King Paramount make his country more like Great Britain.

Supposedly they were doing just that now. But the King had been several hours in his governmental meeting. What could they possibly be discussing that could take so long? She gave a little sigh and decided she might as well have tea with herself.

"Sophy!"

She turned at the sound of his voice. A horrified gasp caught in her throat and she brought a hand over her gaping mouth as her husband strolled through the palace doors. She had never seen such a mess! His black hair was stuck in strings to the sweat that glistened on his forehead, mud and dried blood from what had clearly been a bloody nose smeared his face, partially concealing the tattoo that spanned from cheekbone to cheekbone. He was shockingly in his shirtsleeves, one of which had been recently torn at the shoulder; the lovely brocaded vest he had imported from England sported a large helping of dirt, as did the knees of his trousers. The only thing that wasn't abused was the English Field Marshals jacket that was folded over one arm. If it weren't for the exuberant smile on his face she would have been certain he had been accosted by a gang of angry gorillas.

"What happened?" She cried, teetering somewhere between concern and scolding him for his ghastly appearance.

"Darling!" Without warning, leaving no opportunity to escape, he grabbed her by both shoulders and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth, smearing a bit of mud onto her face and leaving a grubby handprint on each of her white puff sleeves.

"You're filthy!" She pulled back and whipped a dainty handkerchief from her sleeve and frantically wiped at her face. He didn't even notice.

"The Flowers introduced me to the most _marvelous _game!" He exclaimed, tossing his Field Marshal's coat into the nearest chair.

"Game?" She might have known. After all not everything that went on in Utopia's 'Parliament meetings' was strictly governmental.

"It's perfectly English." He promised, noting her disapproving tone. "It's quite complicated, actually, which is probably why the English like it so much. But it's also delightfully physical! There is a great deal of running and throwing and hitting things with sticks. That's actually the best part. You see this one chap throws the ball at three little stakes pounded in the ground and tries to knock them down. Then this other chap stands between and tries to keep him from hitting them with a large flat stick." He demonstrated a grand swing.

Sophy nodded with a bit of a sigh. "Cricket." The game was a little on the rough side for her tastes and she would very much rather her husband, the King of Utopia, didn't run around in the dirt like a schoolboy. But she didn't say so. Not just yet.

"You've heard of it, then?" His grin impossibly widened, his white teeth contrasting with his bronze skin.

"Yes, I've heard of it. Sit down." She dipped her handkerchief into a small fountain in the wall.

He sat without question, barely realizing he had done so as he continued talking. "I'm so glad you know it, Sophy!" He exclaimed as she began to gently wipe the dirt from his face. "Did you know that, despite its name, it has absolutely nothing to do with those little musical insects we have about the palace? I do wonder how it got its name."

"Oh, Darling, what _did_ you do to your nose?" Now that she was closer she could see that there were more than just the remnants of a bloody nose. As she wiped some of the dirt away, it was clear that the whole bridge of his nose was beginning to change color.

He winced just a bit as she put pressure on the sensitive spot. "It's quite a funny story, actually. Mr. Goldbury and I learned an extremely fundamental lesson in physics."

She raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly that had to do with Cricket.

He grinned, apparently that was exactly the response he had wanted. "It seems that two individuals can not occupy the same space at the same time. And some other nonsense about opposing forces in motion."

No doubt Lord Dramalegh had fed those phrases to him. Besides being a Lord Chamberlain the young man was also an aspiring mathematician.

"As it happens after Mr. Blushington made a hit Mr. Golbury and I were both pursuing the same ball and were blissfully unaware of each other until his face rudely introduced itself to mine. Needless to say they weren't the friendliest of acquaintances. The next thing I remember I was lying on my back wondering if I had caught the ball."

"Oh!" Sophy's mouth dropped in concern. "You should have come home right away. You could have been seriously hurt!" The more she heard the more appalled she became with the Flowers of Progress. English gentlemen indeed!

He dismissed it with a wave. "Sophy, we couldn't stop then! We were _tied."_

"But what if you had a concussion, or some such thing? Darling you are _fifty_! You're not a resilient young man anymore."

He considered being offended by that remark but shrugged it off. "Sophy, Dear, don't fuss. I'm fine. Besides, Captain Corcoran is a year older than me and he was holding his own."

"Well, you should have come back at least until your nose stopped bleeding!" She said severely, cleaning the last bit of blood from his chin with an annoyed flick of her wrist.

"It wasn't that bad." He assured, just before he glanced at his shirt and gave a nervous chuckle. "Oh, well, perhaps it was. But we simply couldn't quit then. Nekaya hadn't had a chance at bat."

Sophy straightened up with a startled squeak, the wet handkerchief dropping from her hands. "Nekaya wasn't playing _too_?"

"Yes, of course." He gave her a smile. "Don't worry, dear. It's very English for boys and girls to play Cricket too."

"But not _together_!" She shrieked.

"Why not?" He stood and moved to a mirror set in the elaborate tiled wall. He took one look at himself and made a face. No wonder Sophy was so appalled at his appearance. He really did look ghastly even after she had wiped most of the mud off him.

"It..it just isn't proper!" Was all that her stunned mouth could manage. This was just too unacceptable for words.

"Lord Dramaleigh is an expert on such things." He bent a little closer to the mirror to examine the growing bruise on his nose. "And he said it would be alright. Besides, we couldn't very well have left the girls out. They wouldn't stand for it."

She would have to have a serious talk with Mr. Dramaleigh about his qualifications as a Lord Chamberlain. Any man whose duty it was to keep a country moral certainly would not allow such goings on. "I thought you wanted to raise your daughters as English _ladies_. Not a pair of schoolyard ruffians."

"Oh, their playing was very ladylike. You would have been proud of them. They always made quite sure to extend their little fingers when holding the bat and they always made certain to say 'thank you' to the pitcher."

Sophy opened her mouth but he continued before she had a chance to speak.

"This was just a practice game, of course, just teaching us how to play. You should really come and play with us next game."

"I most certainly will not!"

"You could cheer, then." He offered, completely oblivious of her consternation in his excitement. "Utopia will finally have a national pastime! I've even come up with a delightfully clever name for our team: 'The Chappies'! Do you think it sounds English enough?" He didn't stop for her to answer as he removed his vest and noticed the large tear in his shirt. "Oh! And Mr. Blushington has promised to design uniforms for us. Did you know he is a rather accomplished artist? Neither did I. Have you ever heard of anything so quaint as special clothes to play a game? I just adore the idea. We ought to do that with every game." He started up the large staircase, his hand brushing the elaborately carved railing as he rattled on, mostly to himself now.

Sophy just stood at the bottom of the stairs shaking her head. There was no talking to him when he was like this. And with the Flowers of Progress's backing there was really no way to dissuade him.

"Oh! I forgot." He reached the top of the stairs and turned, looking down at her with a smile that was far younger than his years. "When we've finished the Cricket season Mr. Goldbury promised to teach us _rugby_!"


End file.
